King Ribbittron’s Ribbit of Doom

“Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare yourselves for the arrival of a legend! The one, the only, Shadow Phantom of Toxic Pond! Hailing from the poisonous swamp lakes of the dark forest where no mortal dares step foot!”

The green bot chimed in, glitchy but still going for maximum drama. “And let’s not forget her terrifying frog army of Ribbots! Guaranteed to leave you riveted—or should we say ribbit-ed!”

Miyuu cringed so hard it felt like her face might fold in on itself. Shadow Phantom of Toxic Pond? That sounded like a cheap superhero knockoff, dreamed up by a ten-year-old hopped up on sugar and too many late-night cartoon marathons.

“Place your bets, folks!” the red bot crowed. “The carnage begins soon!”

And then the Shadow Phantom of Toxic Pond made her entrance. She swept into the pit with her cape billowing dramatically behind her, which was impressive considering there was no wind. She wore a black top hat tilted at a jaunty angle, a domino mask that was doing absolutely nothing to hide her identity and an elated expression that made it clear she was living her best life right now.

Miyuu tilted her head, staring at her opponent with disbelief. She had questions. So many questions.

“Ah, Tsukishima!” She bellowed, gripping the brim of her hat. “At last, we meet!”

Miyuu blinked. Slowly. Her internal monologue sprinted through a marathon of resignation, mild confusion, and deep, soul-crushing exasperation. It was so painfully, achingly, mortifyingly obvious that the so-called Shadow Phantom of Toxic Pond was, in fact, Natsuki.

The same Natsuki who once apologized to a vending machine when it ate her coins.

Miyuu dragged a hand down her face. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared her for this.

The pit rippled as its adaptive grid activated again, and this time Miyuu tried to brace herself. It didn’t help.

The terrain from the last fight melted away, replaced by soft, spongey ground that squelched unpleasantly underfoot. Around them a ring of mushrooms sprouted, marking the fight’s boundaries.

Natsuki—or rather, the self-proclaimed Shadow Phantom of Toxic Pond—pointed a gloved finger straight at Miyuu. “Mwahahaha!” She cackled. “Prepare yourself! For today, you face your doom at the hands of my King Ribbittron and the Leapers of Chaos!”

She flapped her cape, and an army of green and purple robotic frog bots leaped out as if they’d been rehearsing this routine for weeks. They lined up in neat little rows like soldiers. Hopping into formation in front of a bigger, chunkier frog bot that Miyuu assumed was supposed to be King Ribbittron.

Before she could fully process the absurdity of it all, the green bot cut in, dragging her out of her thoughts with its countdown. “Three! Two! One!”

The buzzer blared, signalling the start of the fight.

“Forward, my minions!” Natsuki shouted, her hand slicing through the air like she was commanding a naval fleet and not... frogs.

The smaller Ribbots sprang into action, their tiny robotic legs propelling them forward with lightning speed. They spat neon yellow blotches of acidic chemicals that sizzled as it melted through the mossy terrain.

Miyuu flinched as a glob splattered uncomfortably close to her shoe, sending up a puff of acrid steam. "What the hell are they teaching her at that chemistry club?" She muttered. Her earlier worries about Natsuki holding her own suddenly felt laughable.

K.A.T.O. darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a particularly aggressive glob of acid that melted a mushroom cap into goo. “Evading is fun and all,” he grumbled over the comms, “but I’d like to register my objection to being turned into soup.”

The Ribbots, apparently uninterested in K.A.T.O.'s commentary, continued their relentless assault. They were fast—too fast—and their precision was no joke. K.A.T.O. was forced into a frantic scramble, dodging and weaving like a fluffy pinball in a high-stakes arcade game.

Every hop brought them closer, every glob of acidic spit forced another desperate sidestep. It would’ve been impressive if it weren’t so terrifying. And to make matters worse, the boggy terrain wasn’t exactly cooperating. K.A.T.O.’s normally fluid movements were reduced to ungainly lunges as the spongey ground clung to his limbs like a passive-aggressive mud bath.

“Project decoys.” Miyuu instructed through the comms.

K.A.T.O. didn’t even pause to grumble (for once). His eyes glowed, and in the next instant, several holographic clones of himself shimmered into existence, each an identical copy right down to the annoyed flick of his tail. The fake K.A.T.Os darted in different directions, scattering across the battlefield.

From her side of the pit, Natsuki let out a delighted cackle. “Fools!” she cried, throwing up her arms. “Attack them all, my children! Leave no decoy unscathed!”

The Ribbots didn’t need further encouragement. They immediately split up, their tiny, sticky feet pattering across the muck as they launched themselves at the projections.

Neon streaks of acid shot through the air. Their strategy was clear: process of elimination. K.A.T.O’s decoys would distort slightly when hit, exposing them as fakes, allowing the Ribbots to move on to their next target.

Miyuu begrudgingly acknowledged the skill on display. Their attack patterns were disturbingly sophisticated—for tiny acid-spewing robots cobbled together by someone who once cried during a group project presentation.

“Okay,” K.A.T.O. muttered. “On a scale of one to bad, this feels... really bad.”

Miyuu pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just keep moving. Those tiny bodies can’t possibly hold that much chemical reserve. They’ll run out soon enough.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The Ribbots’ acid barrage began to falter. The once-steady stream of neon yellow sputtered, reduced to sad, sporadic dribbles. They wheezed like empty ketchup bottles being squeezed for all it was worth. Eventually, mercifully, the chemical bombardment stopped altogether, leaving the battlefield neon-free for the first time since the fight began.

“See?” Miyuu smirked. “Told you.”

K.A.T.O. didn’t respond. Mostly because the Ribbots had, despite running out of acid, managed to zero in on the real him. Smart little pests. He gave up on maintaining the clone projections. No point wasting energy when the jig was clearly up.

Natsuki, undeterred by her depleted reserves, commanded, “Deploy Operation Sticky Frog Ball!”

“Operation what now?” K.A.T.O. muttered. His question was answered almost immediately as the Ribbots launched themselves at him, tongues shooting out like sticky grappling hooks.

K.A.T.O. managed to dodge the first few, but one finally latched onto his leg.

“Gross.” K.A.T.O. deadpanned, trying to shake it off. The Ribbot held fast, flopping along behind him as he darted through the bog.

Before he could deal with the first hitchhiker, another tongue snapped onto his tail. Then another. And another. Soon, K.A.T.O. was dragging what looked like an unsettling parade float of robotic frogs.

Miyuu’s eye twitched as she watched the scene unfold. “Emit an EMP burst,” She ordered. “Shake them off.”

“Gladly,” K.A.T.O. replied, his tail beginning to glow. The burst of electromagnetic energy rippled out with a satisfying hum… and achieved absolutely nothing. The Ribbots remained firmly attached, their tongues holding fast like industrial-strength glue. One of them even gave a smug little ribbit.

Miyuu stared, her annoyance hitting levels she didn’t even know existed. “Are you kidding me?”

Natsuki placed her hands on her hips, with a grin. “My Ribbots’ neural relays are coated with a nano-ceramic insulating compound. Immune to electromagnetic interference, resistant to heat. Perfection in amphibious robotics!” She threw her head back and unleashed a fresh burst of maniacal laughter. “We are unstoppable!”

Miyuu pinched the bridge of her nose harder. “Great. So they’re sticky, acid-spitting, EMP-immune frogs. Anything else we should know?”

“They’re adorable.” Natsuki offered, beaming like a proud parent.

K.A.T.O. let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “This is fine. I’m totally fine.”

It was not fine. It was, in fact, the opposite of fine. The frogs just kept piling on.

“King Ribbittron, forward!” Natsuki commanded.

King Ribbittron obeyed, hopping forward with a wet, squelching splat that sent mud and bog water splattering in all directions.

K.A.T.O., buried under a writhing, sticky heap of Ribbots, wriggled helplessly. “I don’t want to turn into glow-in-the-dark soup!” he wailed, his voice muffled under the mass of robotic frogs.

Miyuu smacked a hand against her forehead. “Is that really what you want your last words to be?” she snapped. “At least go out with some dignity. Say something cool!”

“Cool?” K.A.T.O. grumbled. “You want cool while I’m being marinated in robotic frog spit?”

Meanwhile, King Ribbittron took centre stage. It’s mouth unhinged, jaw dropping to the floor with a clunk. The low, rumbling BAAAAAAAA that followed vibrated through the pit like the prelude to an actual apocalypse. The glowing light in its maw intensified, bathing the arena in an ominous, chemical-green glow.

From across the pit, Natsuki was revelling in her impending victory, her cape flaring as she launched into a yet another monologue. “Fools! You dared to challenge the unparalleled might of my King Ribbittron? Behold, your annihilation! Your defeat will be swift yet poetic—a testament to the power of—”

K.A.T.O. squeezed his eyes shut, resigning himself to his fate.

The light in King Ribbittron’s mouth swelled to blinding intensity, pulsing like a chemical sun. And then—BWAAAM! An ear-splitting blast shattered the tension as the beam ripped free.

It tore through the air like a vengeful comet, obliterating a patch of terrain that had done absolutely nothing to deserve it. It left a smouldering crater where nothing of importance had been moments before, the adaptive grid pixelating and glitching under the sheer force.

The arena fell silent.

It missed.

Natsuki froze mid-victory pose, her cape drooping like a deflated balloon. Her face drained of all colour. She uttered a single, profoundly baffled, “Eh?”

King Ribbittron gave a groaning creak, tipped forward, and crashed to the ground with an unceremonious thud, utterly drained of power. The mighty frog-bot, once the pride of The Shadow Phantom’s army, now lay as useful as oversized yard decor.

K.A.T.O. exhaled loudly, the sound somewhere between relief and lingering disbelief.

The smaller Ribbots hopped around aimlessly, their chemicals depleted, their sticky tongues no longer threatening, just kind of pathetic. K.A.T.O. finally wriggled free as the adhesive dried and cracked. He stood, shaking off frogs like an indignant dog shedding water.

Across the arena, Natsuki’s domino mask betrayed her by sliding off, revealing a face so mortifyingly red it could’ve powered its own laser.

She gasped, frantically yanked the mask back into place, cleared her throat, and mustered what little dignity she had left. “Uh… it’s time for a tactical retreat!” She whipped her cape dramatically, then tripped slightly over her own foot before scampering away.

The red bot’s voice boomed across the pit, undeterred. “Looks like the Ribbots croaked under pressure!”

The green bot was quick with the follow up. “And the winner is… Tsukishima Miyuu and K.A.T.O.! The Shadow Phantom of Toxic Pond has officially hopped off the leaderboard! Ha! Get it?”